Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us.
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